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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25202743">chapter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athina_Blaine/pseuds/Athina_Blaine'>Athina_Blaine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Typical Awkward Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, athina continues to have a low opinion of dvds, because i know you babes are thirsty for more of jon attempting small talk, pride and prejudice and tma are basically the same story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:41:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25202743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athina_Blaine/pseuds/Athina_Blaine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin reads a new book, but he doesn't think Jon is much a fan, himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>268</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>chapter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Martin had just flipped the page when a thumping sound pulled him up by his chin, and he froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon had walked into the breakroom. He didn’t seem to notice Martin at all, cutting a determined path towards the kitchenette and scooping up the packet of instant coffee off the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hmm. That would be his second cup of coffee that morning, alongside three cups of tea. Must have been a long night last night. Should Martin ask about it? That seemed like something he should ask about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, well, perhaps not. Jon had long since made his opinion on small talk clear, or anyone asking about his wellbeing. So, being a good, professionally distant co-worker, Martin swallowed down his concern, and returned to his very good book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room fell back into silence, save for the bubbling of the kettle and the flutter of his pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pride and Prejudice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin jumped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon was looking at him. You wouldn’t know it if you only ever saw him in the dark and gloomy head archivist’s office, but his brown eyes were such a soft and warm colour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh,” Martin started, throat catching. “Yeah. Sasha recommended it to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your first time reading it, then? They didn’t force it upon you in university?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can’t have a university force a book on you if you never went to university in the first place. Not that Martin was about to tell Jon that. Probably wouldn’t be good for the aforementioned professional relationship, and Martin wasn’t all that inclined to give Jon </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> reason to think he was a cock-up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon hummed as if Martin had replied, ripping open the coffee packet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve only ever read it once. Class requirement, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Well, that was …</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin straightened up, hopeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps this could be the thing they could talk about? You know, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The thing that would start closing that unfathomable, chilly gap that sat heavy on Martin’s shoulders every time Jon looked up at him coolly from over his tape recorders. He coughed, trying to sound aloof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what did you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well.” Jon brought his mug to his lips. “I can’t say it was particularly challenging, but I suppose it’s important to have an easy read or two for those who struggle with that sort of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To say that Martin deflated would be an understatement. It was more comparable a hissing car tyre after a teen had slashed it as revenge against their unpleasant maths teacher. Trying not to make his disappointment too obvious, Martin turned the page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How far along are you?” Jon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, about halfway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how are you finding it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, damn. What did Martin say now? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, I have been enjoying this book that you so clearly have a low opinion of. By law of association, please proceed to lower your opinion of me as well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh, no, he was being stupid. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pride and Prejudice </span>
  </em>
  <span>for God’s sake, hardly niche reading. It was absolutely ridiculous to feel bad about liking it, even if Jon might think he was simple for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s pretty good so far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon made another noise, staring at him. Unsure of what to say, Martin kept his eyes on the page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Jon cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well, uh …”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped his fingertips on the mug. Then, without another word, he turned and left the breakroom. Martin stared after him until his heels disappeared behind the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must have been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>long night last night.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After that, Martin thought it would be best to continue reading in the assistants’ office. Jon only ever showed up there occasionally, after all, which made it automatically a much more peaceful environment, even if Tim and Sasha could be a little distracting sometimes. He didn’t have to worry about another ambush, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was, until Jon barged into the office to ask Tim a question about something </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely </span>
  </em>
  <span>random and unimportant. Couldn’t he have just </span>
  <em>
    <span>emailed </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tim if he had wanted to know the location of the Scotson case?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Jon glanced over his shoulder and their eyes met, and Martin quickly returned to his silly, no-good book, face warming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Decided to read it, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha stood at the edge of his desk, holding a stack of files in her arms. Martin nodded and she smiled, delighted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good, it’s one of my favourites. What do you think about Elizabeth? Smart lass, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s definitely a word for it. I do really like the scenes with her and the Bingleys and Darcy, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely. Nothing like a bunch of smug, rich twats getting shown up. Let me know when you finish, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a little wave, Sasha walked back to her desk. Martin was about to turn back to his book when another figure loomed over his desk and he flinched back with a startled shout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still at it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon stared at him, blinking innocently, as if he hadn’t just attempted to cause Martin to drop dead of fright. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed to put a bell on this man. Trying to recover swiftly, he futzed at the neck of his jumper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I mean, it’s only been an hour. You know, since you asked the first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— Yes, of course,” Jon said, folding his hands behind his back. He chuckled. “Although, to be honest, I half figured you would have dropped it after Darcy broke up Jane and Bingley. I remember I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He does </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon paused, mouth frozen open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— Didn’t …? I distinctly recall you saying you were more than halfway through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That doesn’t mean I’m at the part where Darcy breaks up Jane and Charles, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon developed a sudden fascination with Martin’s pen collection, his lips pressed in a thin line. Then, he said, waspish,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need I remind you that you're supposed to be working right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, with a huff, he hurried out of the room. A low whistle drew Martin’s attention. Tim was leaning back in his chair, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a real treat."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin sighed, turning back to the book. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> would Darcy break up Jane and Charles? They were such a cute couple …</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>In hindsight, perhaps hiding in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>archives </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>head archivist </span>
  </em>
  <span>probably wasn’t the best idea. In his defence, though, there was this quiet corner that was tucked in the back, far from anyone else, and where the carpet was a little bit softer than everywhere else. It was a great spot to get away from it all or if he ever needed a good sulking. It had seemed a perfect solution at the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was quickly dissuaded from that notion when an unexpected force kicked his outstretched legs and, with a startled yelp, the floor was suddenly covered in sprawling files and one Jonathan Sims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Martin said, tossing his book aside. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon groaned, allowing Martin to pull him back onto his feet. His rubbed at his head, eyes screwed shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin crouched down to begin scooping up the files. “Here, let me help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jon didn’t stop him and soon all the files were back in his arms. Jon flipped through them, filing them into their proper order with a disgruntled expression. “What on Earth were you doing down there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s eyes flickered to the book, despite himself. Jon followed his glance, one brow raising, and Martin sighed. “Look, I’m on break, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You … in the office, you yelled at me for reading on the clock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I?” Jon’s returned to his files, continuing to sort through them. “That’s, ah … Well, perhaps I was a bit harsh. I trust you to know your workload better than me. Where are you now? In the book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh," Martin blinked, baffled by the change in mood, "near the end. Finally got to the part with Charles and Jane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you?” Jon finally looked up. “I had only wanted to say that I, uh …” He cleared his throat. “When I had gotten to that point in the book, I was thinking, why, ah— Well, it seemed like this whole time we were meant to believe that— And I just wanted to ask … You know …"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin, in fact, did not know. However, he could see the building desire to flee in Jon’s eyes miles and miles away, and for a mad second he was tempted to reach and stop him, maybe ask about what was so clearly bothering him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he held himself back as Jon mumbled, “Yeah” and scurried off once more. Not too fast, but still just enough to make Martin wonder what he was running from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would it be imprudent to ask Elias about Jon’s work schedule? Probably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, picking up his book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much for his quiet little spot in the archives.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The roof ended up being the perfect place Martin needed. It was peaceful, the weather was absolutely lovely today, and the view from the Institute was the perfect backdrop as he processed his thoughts. Perhaps he should come up here more often whenever he needed to get away from it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed the book with a gentle thump, sighing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it had certainly lived up to the hype, in his opinion. He couldn’t wait to talk to Sasha about it. He stared out over the rooftops of London. There really wasn’t anything else quite like finishing a good book, was there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something thumped, breaking him out of his reverie, and he turned around, startled. Jon was standing in the doorway, seeming just as startled himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello,” Jon said, slowly closing the door behind him. “I didn’t realise you came up here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, usually. I just wanted somewhere to read.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, of course.” Jon lowered his head. “Sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That startled a breathless chuckle from him. “What are you apologising for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon made an indecipherable noise, fixing the cuff of his jumper. He looked … almost embarrassed? Which nearly charmed Martin right over the ledge of the roof. Only Jon could look adorable while being so stuffy at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What brings you up here, anyway?” Martin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips tightening, Jon reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I come up here to smoke sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s eyebrows shot up. When had Jon started smoking again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly sensing his shock, Jon stiffened, shoving the unlit cig away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s concern bubbled back up to the surface, but he forcefully taped it down as Jon began backing away towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let you get back to it, then—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s alright. I just finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon paused, and Martin didn’t know if it was just the rare London sunlight, but it seemed like his eyes had brightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, damn. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span> had he done this to himself again? Turning towards the roof’s edge, he trailed a finger over the corner of the hardback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was really good. Elizabeth and Darcy were really enjoyable. I know you don’t like it, but I think that the simpler language is what makes it a fun read. It really makes the banter shine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Definitely. I always thought that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon paused, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to Martin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think I don’t like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, because you said as much in the breakroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said no such thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh— Yes, you did. You said it ‘wasn’t a challenging read’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, I didn’t find it challenging because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.” Crossing his arms, Jon looked askance. “It was actually my favourite of the required reading for that class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? </span>
  <em>
    <span>What? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Martin was half tempted to let his jaw drop open, but that would make him look stupid, so he refrained. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you say the thing about ‘people who struggle with that sort of thing’ then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon’s brows crinkled in confusion. Slowly, though, realization dawned in his eyes. And then, he did something Martin didn’t ever think he’d see him do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon </span>
  <em>
    <span>blushed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I was just, uh,” he coughed, turning his head away, “trying to sound smart. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A deranged giggle snuck its way passed Martin's lips. So, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why Jon had been acting so strangely today. He had just … wanted to talk about a book he liked. With Martin. He scrubbed at his jaw, chuckling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sounded like a twat, is what you sounded like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped himself from clapping a hand over his mouth. Why did he have to go and say </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead of sneering or snapping right back at him, Jon laughed, and said, “That’s fair”, combing a hand through his messy hair. The age that lined his face had softened somewhat, his shoulders less stiff than they’ve been all week. He looked … relaxed. For the first time in a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you liked it, then?" Martin asked, taking in the sight with a puttering heart. "I figured you wouldn’t go for a romance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> about romance. It’s about classism and misogynistic marriage practices. There are a lot of good things about it.” Jon looked away. “Like, you know, not letting first impressions and your own pride get in the way of … something special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, Martin thought, his chest warming. He supposed that was true. Jon then inclined his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen to like the romance. Elizabeth and Darcy are a smart match. Seen the movie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I recommend it. MacFayden is inspired as Mr. Darcy. I think I might still have the DVD somewhere if you want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who still owns DVDs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It had been purchased </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>the advent of convenient streaming services, thank you very much.” Jon huffed, turning away. “And the bonus features are nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin chuckled, half delirious. This might have been the longest the two of them have talked about non-work-related matters. Even then …</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice. He wished he could do it more often. He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do it more often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to,” Martin started, licking his lips. Wait, where was he going with this? “You know, if you’re interested, whenever you have some free time—” Stop, stop it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you stop that right now </span>
  </em>
  <span>“—maybe we could watch it together sometime?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon’s eyebrows flew up and Martin’s heart stopped dead in his chest. The question hung awkward in the air, and, desperately, he continued, “I mean, I noticed you seemed a little overworked lately and if, you know, you were looking to take a break or do something fun sometime I’d really like to— that is, if you’d like to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon looked as surprised by his answer as Martin felt, staring down at the gravel ground of the rooftop with wide eyes and lips pulled in a thin line. Then, he let out a slow breath, and the sudden tenseness melted away once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you, uh … prefer to go to yours or mine? I think my flat is closer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let’s do yours. Flat. Let’s go to your flat. I can bring snacks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that sounds excellent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, Martin thought as they chatted for a little bit longer, making plans, asking about each other's day, before heading back to the door that would take them back to work. It sounded pretty wonderful, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Jon could recommend his next book? Oh, they could start like a little Magnus Institute book club, get Sasha and Tim involved, too. That would be adorable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they parted ways at the head archivist's office, Jon doing a little, awkward wave, Martin had the insane feeling that Jon would think that was a splendid idea, too.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on tumblr <a href="https://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/">@athina-blaine</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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